


Sapphire of the Sea

by exhaustedwerewolf



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/F, Fantasy, First Kiss, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Nicodranas (Critical Role), One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Sirens, Useless Lesbian Beau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 02:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18111815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustedwerewolf/pseuds/exhaustedwerewolf
Summary: "I once heard of a monster fairWith blood scarlet scales and the moon in her hairAnd should you want for her companyYou must lay down your life to serve as her fee,"-In which the Ruby of the Sea is a siren wont to sing sailors to their watery graves, (or so the story goes,) and Beau, first mate of the Mist-ake, doesn’t have anything better to do than go searching along the beach, only to come upon a gem of a different colour.





	Sapphire of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> The song referred to throughout this fic is an adapted version of Ginny Di's fantastic "Ruby of the Sea,"- please go listen to the original! I just changed up the lyrics for this fic- the adapted version is at the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy!

In Beau’s opinion, there was literally _nothing_ worse than having a song stuck in your head.

 _Especially_ with the beginnings of a hangover gnawing its way through her skull. Especially when the Mist-ake had been confined to the- aptly named- Restless Wharf since the weather had turned traitor.

The stretch of beach beneath the lighthouse would have sucked even on a typical day of golden Menagerie sunshine- more shale and broken rock than sand, every trudging step was punctuated with a disappointing crunch. As it was, the ocean was roiling, snarling with foam; a reflection of the same slate grey as the clouded sky, where gulls hung in the air as if suspended, wings out to ride the buffeting winds. The rain was just bad enough to leave Beau’s clothes sagging with the weight of it, to leave her hair salt-stiff and sticky.

Through it all, that _fucking_ song, over and over, like someone was singing it right by her ear.

_If to her music you find you’re still drawn,_

_Go alone to the shore at earliest dawn..._

Beau had heard of cabin fever, ocean madness, whatever, but she was starting to think the opposite was setting in. She seized up a rock from beside her feet and tossed it into the water. The subdued _sploosh_ as it was swallowed up was far less satisfying than the splintering splash she’d hoped for.

_She doesn’t hunt at the break of the day,_

_She sings in the shade of the lighthouse, they say..._

Beau dug her fingers into her temples and screwed shut her eyes. She didn’t even know what she was _doing_ out here, it was just a stupid song, a stupid song she couldn’t get out of her damn head because she hadn’t watched the wake of the Mist-ake or let the breeze flutter her hair as she hung from the rigging in well over a week and she didn’t have anything to do but spend her evenings getting drunk in briny old taverns-

“Her fangs white as foam on the crest of a wave,

Her eyes like a current, you’re caught in her gaze…”

Beau opened her eyes.

“...Her voice is her sweet siren’s call to the grave,

And once you have heard it you cannot be saved…”

The voice was definitely _not_ the memory of an elderly purser with a singing voice that rattled in his lungs- it was definitely not coming from inside her head. It was distant, almost inaudible over the roar of the waves, but- it was high and clear and sung with a strangely joyful air, a far cry from the ominous undercurrent the lyrics had carried the night before.

Beau didn’t have to go far before she glimpsed the figure seated on the rock.

They were faced outwards, watching the horizon and combing fingers through hair the colour of deep, deep waters on a sunlit day. It wasn’t just their hair that was blue, Beau realised, as she drew closer- their _skin-_ it had been hard to tell with the downpour washing the morning out, tingeing it grey- but their skin was sapphire blue.

Without thinking about it, Beau dropped into a crouch, weaving between the jutting rocks along the beach as she crept closer, stopping only behind a large boulder when she could draw no closer without breaking cover.

They- whoever was sitting on a rock at fuck o’clock on a miserable morning like this- were still singing. There was something so untroubled about the melody- so airy and light-hearted, just listening warmed Beau, despite the chill breeze, the flurrying rain.

Unable to resist, she dug her fingers into the stone and pulled herself up onto her knees to peer over the rock, ready to duck again if the stranger turned around.

From this distance, she could clearly make out a pair of horns, curled like a ram’s, sea-slick and glittering with silver jewellery when they swayed their head with their song. Their ear was pointed, made of small bony spines webbed with skin- almost fin-like. They stretched extravagantly, threading their fingers and extending their arms above their head, singing all the while, and as they did so Beau saw- swishing out from behind cover of the rock on which they were perched- their scaled _tail,_ iridescent blue-green, and flowing behind it, long and luxurious, trailing fins, like that of a fighting fish.

 _“What the fuck-_ ” At Beau’s rasping whisper, the song was cut short by a sharp gasp of surprise from- the _siren?_ \- whose head whipped around. Their eyes shone, pearlescent in the grey dawn light, and Beau lost her grip on the boulder- flailed, and fell backwards onto her ass, sending shale clattering down the slope of the beach.

After the last piece has skittered to a halt, there was a long stretch of quiet- of just the inhale and exhale of the ocean and the cries of the gulls. Beau stared unseeingly at the rock face in front of her, caught her breath, felt the sting of where she’d scraped up her hands. And then, a voice called out;

“Um, hello? I totally saw you, you know.” The voice was thickly accented, with a bizarre sort of lilt, and pretty incredulous. “It is kind of rude to sneak up on someone and then hide from them when they see you!” A little plash punctuated their words, as if the siren had just dashed their tail against the surface of the water.

Slowly, Beau used the rock to lever herself up enough to take another peek. 

Her gaze met their eyes again- that strange colourful white, like the dregs of a rainbow lingering in a thickly clouded sky.

The siren beamed.

“There you are!” They exclaimed, clasping their hands together in delight. “I thought maybe you had run away.”

Beau realised her mouth was partly open. She stood properly, and began to emerge slowly from behind her boulder.

“There _you_ are.” She said, hoarsely. The siren didn’t seem to hear her.

“You’re a girl, right?” They trilled, bouncing up and down in the way a little kid might rock on their toes. “I haven’t seen a human girl up close before! Will you come closer?”

“Yeah, I’m a girl.” Beau said. The siren, she noticed, had wickedly sharp claws, which she’d now anchored into the ribbons of seaweed clinging into the rock so that she could lean closer without slipping forward into the water. Beau took a step forward, another- her boot hit the edge of the surf.

“Me too! Well, _obviously_ I am not a human, but I am a girl too!” She gestured to herself, and Beau saw more fins trailing from her arms. “I’m Jester!”

Despite the seeping chill of the briny water now seeping through the ankles of Beau’s pants, she continued to draw closer.

“I’m Beauregard.” She said. “Beau.” Jester’s skin, she realised, was covered in tiny, tiny scales, forming a shimmering blue mosaic- more reminiscent of butterfly scales than fish scales. She wondered, briefly, what they would feel like, if they were delicate enough that she’d brush them away if she were to touch her- and then felt heat rising to her face.

Jester, thankfully, did not seem to have noticed- she was too busy performing her own undisguised examination of Beau’s features- forked tongue curled at the edge of her mouth in concentration. Beau immediately made herself look away from Jester’s lips.

“Beau,” the siren said, her eyes crinkling at the corners with the strength of her smile. “It is very nice to meet you! What are you doing out so early?”

“I was kinda looking for the Ruby of the Sea,” Beau admitted, scratching at the back of her neck. “But I guess _she’s_ just a legend after all, but you-”

“Oh,” Jester laughed brightly. “That’s my mama!”

Beau stared at her.

“Your… your _mom_ is the Ruby of the Sea?” She asked.

The grin that Jester flashed back at her could only be described as predatory- Beau was suddenly excruciatingly aware of just how sharp Jester’s fangs were- no, more like- shark’s teeth. It was suddenly very difficult for her to swallow.

“Yep!” Jester replied, “But don’t worry! We only eat men, usually. And only when they are like, _really_ bad.”

The silence between them was intensified by the long drawn out _shh_ of the drizzling rain, which was, by now, starting to properly plaster Beau’s hair to her face.

“I am _kidding_!” Jester erupted into giggles.

“Uh-huh.” Beau said, faintly, still staring at her mouth. “Sure.”

Jester noticed- Beau _saw_ her noticing, felt a nervous thrill pass through her as Jester quirked an eyebrow at her, and, with a smirk, ran her tongue deliberately along the tips of her teeth.

“Seriously,” she said. “I don’t bite.” A pause, and then she stuck out her tongue with a playful wink. “Unless you want me to.”

“Right.” Beau choked out, about an octave higher than she’d intended. She coughed, and tried again, with marginally more success. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So!” Jester swung her tail as she spoke, sending an arc of water trailing in its wake, “Why were you looking for my mom anyway? Haven’t you heard the song?” 

Without warning, she launched into the chorus;

“Ruby of the Sea, Ruby of the Sea, when there’s red in the water, with haste must you flee, Ruby of the Sea, Ruby of the Sea-”

There was a playfulness to her tone, to her movements- she sashayed her tail as she sung, flexed her claws in a gesture that was somehow both coquetteish and vaguely threatening- that made Beau dizzy. She cut her off.

“-Or soon in a watery grave shall you be.” Beau finished, flat and aireless by comparison. “Yeah, I know it.”

Jester’s answering giggle was a ripple of sunlight over water, and Beau was starting to wonder if maybe she _was_ using some crazy siren magic on her if even her laugh sounded so pretty, and also if she _cared._

“You must have really _really_ wanted to see her if you came out here, then.”

“I don’t think I believed it, to be honest.” Beau mumbled. “Sailors tell stories like that all the fucking time. Doesn’t mean they’re true.”

“Hm?” Jester propped her elbows on her knees so that she could rest her chin in her hands, leaning towards Beau curiously. “What sorts of stories do they tell?”

“Uh,” Beau said. “I dunno. A lot about sirens, I guess.”

“What _about_ sirens?” Jester prompted.

Beau blinked and tried to remember. It was almost impossible- standing here with the sea swirling about her calves, the salt of it on her tongue when she opened her mouth- to cast her mind back to smokey, candlelit taverns, the air heady with the scent of old wood and older ale. Not when she’d _found_ a siren, was _talking_ to one- one who was blinking expectantly at her.

“They say you cause storms. That you sing them into existence, or whatever.” She said, haltingly, and Jester snorted in response.

“We can’t control the weather!” She giggled, and then added; “That would be _really_ cool though.”

“Yeah.” Beau agreed, lamely, and was rewarded with another fanged grin for her efforts.

“C’mon! What else?”

“There was this one guy-” Beau said, hoping it sounded like she was recounting the tale of a blustering bosun and not a story she’d felt against her lips as much as heard, from a deckhand off the _Broken Howl,_ as the ends of her pale hair kissed Beau’s face. “-who told me mermaid’s tears are like, pearls. When they cry.”

Jester wrinkled her nose at that.

“We cry saltwater, _duh,_ ” She said. “Just like humans.” She paused after that, and looked at Beau expectantly.

“We cry saltwater.” Beau confirmed, and Jester nodded, looking satisfied.

“Mama says it’s the last bit of the sea that’s left in you since you all crawled out of the water.” She said, and it was Beau’s turn to laugh in surprise.

“You think we crawled out of the sea?” She asked.

“Not you, personally!” Jester rolled her eyes. “A long time ago. Why else would you cry saltwater?” She said, like it was obvious. Beau shook her head, but she could feel herself smiling. “Anyway, we have stories about you that are true! Isn’t there anything humans have right about us?”

Beau opened her mouth, inhaling as if to speak, and hesitated-

“Go on!” Jester urged. “I want to hear it!”

“Well there is this…” Beau trailed off. “There is this one thing.” Jester nodded encouragingly. “A lot of sailors, they say-” She cleared her throat. “They say that if you uh, kiss a siren-” Jester’s smile was already widening- Beau waded in a step deeper, a step closer, the frothy waters lapping up to her knees now. “You can never drown.”

“ _Oh._ ” Jester said- the word as laced with implication as the waters were laced with white foam. She was sitting up straight again, her eyes gleaming like sea glass now. “Do you believe that one?” 

This close, Beau could see the sea on her skin, glistening like droplets of clear quartz on her bare arms, at her collarbone. “I guess, uh-” Beau said, and she couldn’t just see it, she could smell it, breathe her in; salt-air and beach flowers, sweet plumeria and sun-warmed sand. “I dunno, I guess it’s possible.”

Her eyes were on her lips again, so full and _blue_ , fangs just jutting out from the smile they quirked into, when Jester laid her claws, gently, against Beau’s jawline.

“Wanna find out if it’s true?” The softness of her breath against Beau’s skin as she spoke, and then they were kissing- _holy shit, they were_ \- 

For a moment it was gentle, just the brushing of their lips, and then they dove and they were all a-spin together in the curl of a wave, and it was just the scrape of Jester’s teeth against her lips, Jester’s claws curled around her neck, her little hum of pleasure rippling through the pair of them as Beau’s hands swept up from her waist-

“ _Beau!_ ” They fumbled apart at the sound of the yell, Beau straining to look over her shoulder. She squinted against the rain, but couldn’t find the source of the voice- and then a splash made her look back and-

Jester was gone.

“Beau!” The shout came again, and she tore her gaze away to look back up the length of the beach, and then back to the spot where Jester had been, and then towards the rocks again-

A figure emerged from behind the rocks- one hand up to shield his eyes from the wind and the driving rain. Two yellow eyes found hers.

“Captain Tusktooth…” She muttered, dragging a hand through her hair.

“Beau!” Fjord called, passing his hand over his forehead as if to wick away the water. “What in the hell are you doing out here?”

Beau became abruptly aware that she was standing waist-deep the cold ocean, looking half-drowned from the rain.

“No-one,” she said, eyes flickering back to the vacant rock- and then she jumped. “I mean, nothing.”

Fjord was staring at her like she’d lost her mind.

“Taking a walk?” She tried, leaning against the rock with a faux casual air, which was probably spoiled somewhat by being up to her ass in seawater. “You?”

Fjord seemed to be about to say something, but he was interrupted by the cawing of the gulls. He squinted at her, and seemed to decide it just wasn’t worth it.

“You’ll catch your death.” He said, coming up to the edge of the water and halting. “Come on. I don’t want my first mate getting fuckin’ pneumonia.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Beau rolled her eyes and began picking her way back to the beach. 

When she reached him, Fjord handed her his coat. She shoved at him affectionately in response and took it, muttering criticism about the sleeves that he pointedly pretended to ignore. Side by side, they began to trudge back in the direction of the docks. 

After the first dozen paces, Beau felt a compulsion to hesitate- like a current drawing her back. Fjord wasn’t paying her any mind, off on some tangent about something Orly had said, so she cast her gaze back one last time, and that was when she saw it, hastily scrawled onto the surface of the rock;

_Same time tomorrow?_

Beau grinned to herself, and turned, breaking into a run to catch back up with Fjord.

**Author's Note:**

> I once heard of a monster fair  
> With blood scarlet scales and the moon in her hair  
> And should you want for her company  
> You must lay down your life to serve as her fee
> 
> The shape of her smile, it is sweeter than sin  
> Her gaze it beguiles the hearts of mortal men  
> Her voice when she sings, is as sharp as a gem  
> And once you have heard her you’ll soon meet your end
> 
> Ruby of the Sea, Ruby of the Sea,  
> When there’s red in the water, with haste must you flee  
> Ruby of the Sea, Ruby of the Sea,  
> Or soon in a watery grave shall you be
> 
> If to her music you find you’re still drawn,  
> Go alone to the shore at earliest dawn,  
> She doesn’t hunt at the break of the day,  
> She sings in the shade of the lighthouse, they say.
> 
> Her fangs white as foam on the crest of a wave,  
> Her eyes like a current, you’re caught in her gaze,  
> Her voice is her sweet siren’s call to the grave,  
> And once you have heard it you cannot be saved
> 
> Ruby of the Sea, Ruby of the Sea,  
> When there’s red in the water, with haste must you flee  
> Ruby of the Sea, Ruby of the Sea,  
> Or soon in a watery grave shall you be,  
> Don’t ask her for mercy, she won’t hear your plea.


End file.
